The recent dust-up between Anthony Bourdain and what seemed like pretty much the entire state of New Mexico, over the true roots of the Frito pie, underscores a growing obsession with authenticity, which is competing with iconic to become the most overused word of the year. I've never tasted the pie but the debate, over whether the dish originated in Texas or New Mexico, has less to do with the Frito hybrid than regional authenticity, which become something that automatically earns a dish credibility. And culinary gravitas.

It doesn't though necessarily mean that a dish is any good. In fact though authenticity is nice there are plenty of authentically bad regional dishes and everyone can name a homegrown dish they don't like. I for one am not the biggest fan of the dairyland squeeze-box that is the cheese curd. But Wisconsin compensates with a lot of great, authentically midwestern cuisine and some of it peaks in autumn, especially at the Norske Nook, in the little upstate village of Osseo.

The Nook was founded by Helen Myhre, who really is iconic, and who already looked like a throwback model of authenticity when she opened her little cafe in 1973, because she was a genuine farm wife sharing bonafide family recipes--the kind that were already a loopy hybrid of Scandinavian home-cooking meets fifties Americana (Jell-O!) and Helen's own flourishes. Authenticity, when you dig a little, is always a scrambled thing, a fusion. The place has been under new management since 1990, and there is a little constellation of Nooks dishing up dessert throughout Northwest Wisconsin and a variety of Norske souvenirs (including a book by Helen that--full disclosure--I worked on years ago). But the crust is still hand-rolled and the pies keep winning national awards (33 so far at the National Pie Championship in the past decade alone).

Blue ribbons though are iffy things. The real test of good food is how vividly you remember it and I remember every mouthful of the first Norske Nook sour cream raisin pie we picked up, to bring to friends in Minneapolis, though it never made it out of Osseo. It was so good we ate it straight from the pie tin, sitting on the trunk of our car. And I don't even like pie that much.

Regional manager Cindee Borton-Parker says the most popular Norske Nook pies are the raspberry cream cheese and the banana cream but in the summer the fresh strawberry pie ("weighing eight pounds!") is a big seller and in the fall of course the pumpkin cream cheese. But I think there are enough pumpkin pies floating around now, landing heavily, and if you're going to try one Nook pie that tastes true to Wisconsin's very Scandinavian roots it should be the sour cream lingonberry, the Pippi Longstocking of pies. If you can't get to Osseo picture Helen in her farm kitchen (she would be wearing an apron and looking out on a butter-yellow corn field; at least that's what I picture) and make your own Sour Cream Ligonberry Pie.

Both of them have formidable mustaches, both have moonlighted as jazz musicians, and both, of course, love scotch. Oh, and both are named Ron.

We're talking, of course, about Ron Swanson, head of the Pawnee Parks and Recreation Department, and Ron Burgundy, legendary San Diego television anchorman.

But it's easy to get these two paragons of manlihood confused. So, without further ado--and before you could say "Sweet Lincoln's mullet" or "Son of a bee sting!" or "meat tornado"--let's play, Who Said It: Ron Swanson or Ron Burgundy?

"Our food system is fraught with problems, including unfair treatment of farm and restaurant workers, environmental degradation, and of course, obesity, diabetes, and other diet-related diseases," said Michael Jacobson, Executive Director of Center for Science in the Public Interest and Founder of Food Day. "On this day, we hope to inspire Americans to make changes for the better in their own diets, which could mean anything from eliminating sugary drinks to eating less beef to eating more fruit and vegetables. But we also want to use Food Day to showcase some of the exciting things going on at the local level to solve food-related problems."

To find out how much you know about food production and the environment, take their illuminating Food Literacy quiz.

I've never cooked or or even eaten pork cheeks, but given my experience eating halibut cheeks and veal cheeks I imagine they're tender, meaty and just delicious.

What a gift I thought! Who doesn't love a gift? And so the brainstorming began. I immediately texted Felipe (the other chef at Comodo) the good news. "What should we do with pork cheeks?" We both pondered.

We both agreed they would need to be braised, and braised for hours. But in what? I suggested adding a little miso to the mix, but knew that given we are a Latin-American inspired restaurant that probably wouldn't make much sense.

And then it hit us: We'd use milk and honey to create our braising liquid.

The meat is presently in the oven at 250 F and will stay there until at least 5p.m. The rest has yet to be figured out. We're toying with the idea of using dried cherries or figs in some fashion, stuffing the meat into a warm corn tortilla, and serving a taco for dinner, which we've never done before. (We do offer tacos on our brunch menu, though that's another story).

I'll keep you all posted on the final product. In the meantime, ideas are welcome!

I keep meeting strange creatures who say they won't touch a raw tomato but are fine with the cooked kind (because who doesn't like pizza or spaghetti?) I feel the opposite way about turnips, so I have to give my fall shoutout to the Japanese kind.

They were everywhere at the Union Square Greenmarket this a.m. and I was going to pass on them until I spotted samples. Tasting is believing, as the hoary food saying goes. These were outstanding, crunchy and sweet, and I had to buy a couple. If you see them, now is their prime time.

The first time I was seduced by these little guys was at a press lunch at Blue Hill New York where they were served like radishes, with salt. And that is still how I like them best. Although I wouldn't kick them out of a salad bowl. (They have a earthy-in-a-good-way smell that gets destroyed in cooking.)

These are starting to feel like a hardy perennial, but then this is the time of year when everything trite is explored again. Can you say pumpkin, even without spice?

Earth tones feel so last century compared with the bright azure splashed all over Paola Navone's Como collection for Crate & Barrel. The namesake lake may be a posh vacation magnet in Italy's Alpine north, but these colors and freehand forms say Mediterranean to me, and I'm about ready for a swim. The Italian designer's fall debut is the first of three collections for Crate & Barrel, with more to come in 2014. The present pieces range beyond tabletop to linens, rugs, and furnishings, but tableware is inevitably the great temptation for me, for entertaining or everyday.

Copy editors will tell you that exclamation points are way
over used, but pastry wizard Francois Payard's pumpkin spice macarons deserve
the enthusiastic punctuation mark above--in fact, they're worthy of a whole
string of exclamation points! In case
America's passion for pumpkin spice anything--coffee, bread, beer, ice cream, and frozen waffles--isn't already apparent at coffee bars, fast food joints, and
supermarkets as we close in on Halloween, wrap your head around this
statistic from Nielson: the total pumpkin food and drink category was worth 290
million dollars in 2012, and it's only increasing.

I wasn't one of those pumpkin lovers adding the ka-ching to
the food and drink cash registers--that is, until I sampled Payard's special
macarons recently. Give me a handful of his pumpkin spice wonders any day over
a slice of pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, or even pumpkin ice cream. Each is a
little orange jewel, two whispers of sweet almond air sandwiching a white
chocolate ganache (melted chocolate and cream) flavored with fresh homemade
pumpkin purée--none of the canned stuff for Chef Payard--and seasoned
with cinnamon, ginger, and allspice. But wait. There's one more ingenious
addition: finely ground toasted pepitas (hulled pumpkin seeds) that give a
complex je-ne-sais-pas depth to the filling.

Melt is a new cookbook devoted to macaroni and cheese, but these are no ordinary mac and cheese combinations. Written by Garrett McCord (an Epicurious contributor) and Stephanie Stiavetti, Melt takes this classic crowd-pleasing dish in creative and often unexpected directions. In addition to incorporating a wide variety of flavors and spotlighting artisan cheeses, McCord and Stiavetti fill the pages of Melt with unique twists on the classic casserole, including Point Reyes Original Blue with Pecans, Figs, and Shell Pasta; Pumpkin Stuffed with Fontina, Italian Sausage, and Macaroni; and Roquefort Macaroni with Beets, Shallots, and Poppy Seeds. There's even a chapter on sweet macaroni and cheese variations that includes Fromage Blanc, Chèvre, Peach, and Ghost Pepper Cannelloni and La Tur with Conchiglie, Nectarines, and Apricot Jam.

On the eve of Melt's pub date, we chatted with McCord and Stiavetti about shopping for cheese, pairing cheese and pasta, how to make Mornay sauce (the cheesy sauce that forms the base of most mac and cheese recipes), and even Thomas Jefferson's love for the dish. Read on for our interview and two recipes from Melt.